


Change in Circumstances

by moon_opals



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Breakfast, Committed Relationship, F/M, Family Dynamics, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_opals/pseuds/moon_opals
Summary: As much fun as it was to back-stab Scrooge McDuck, kidnapping was not Goldie's forte.





	Change in Circumstances

Goldie was prone to leave the occasional clue of her arrival.

Scrooge entered the not yet completed mansion and sensed an immediate tense, erratic stir in the air. His gaze traveled along the unpainted, wallpaper free walls.

“You led me to believe this was a waste of money and time.”

He whipped towards the voice responsible for plucking a specific string on an unheard guitar, giving the unfinished manor a spontaneous burst of harmonious light. Her shadow reflected right to his feet as she stood in the foyer’s center, hand on hip, smirk ever present.

“Ae ‘ave every reason ta’ purchase a home base.” Affronted at the suggested, he marched right up to her, “And ye dinnae knock before enterin’.”

“You know better to think I’d ever knock.”

“Hospitality rules.”

She circled him, grimacing at the scant decorations, “Gotta say Scroogey, and interiror designer for the renovations - asap. No one would want to party here.

“As if Ae’d host a party in me own home!”

“Your building an empire, Scroogey,” she answered plainly. Looking back at him, “You’re going to have to fall in line with specific expectations.”

His wary stare calculated her every step, waiting for the first blow she had a tendency of delivering, “What are ye’ doin’ here Goldie?”

“What?” She gestured innocently, “Can’t I congratulate you on your freshly renovated home,” a sharper grimace graced her lips, “despite the incomplete interior.”

“It isn’t in ye’ style.”

Goldie crossed her arms, sending him a hard, weighted stare unlike she had ever stared at him before. He was a patient man, a fearless man even, but even that stare made him question her motives. Although he questioned her motives, he did not question her.

“You know me.” She shrugged, “I suppose I have my reasons,” for the briefest of moments, her stare crinkled, folding into itself, and he saw the deep rise of her chest as she exhaled, “And you can’t get upset about it.”

Scrooge readied his muscles. His first instinct was to attack, to respond to whatever she had prepared for him, which proved to be habitually difficult - her improvisation was one of her better aspects.

She reached over her shoulder to her sack, reminding him to just wait, and she patted down on the smack. Her pale feathers paled further. Shrugging the sack off, she opened it, eyes growing wider and more irritated, even frantic. Snapping it shut, she cursed, and looked around.

“Damn it!” Throwing the sack to the floor, “Not again!”

“What are ye’ goin’ on Goldie?” Crossing his arms, he watched as she tugged on her ponytail, curling her hands around her mouth as she ran down the corridor.

“Opal! Opal, darling!” She ran to the unfinished living room, shouting the name at a high pitched volume that grated his ears, “Don’t just stand there, help me look for her!”

He ran after her, concerned at the sharp urgency she spoke with - a sound he never thought he’d ever hear from her, “Fer who, Goldie!?”

“Opal!” Looking back at him, “Our daughter!”

“Me wot?” He skidded to a stop, “Me wot, how’d  this happen?”

Goldie jogged in place, staring at him with a face he could describe only as mildly disgusted, “Remember the night in the Paris catacombs?”

“Uh…,” in fact he did remember their night in the Paris catacombs - a night to be remembered for all time, “Ae see,” he gulped, “ye laid an egg.”

“Yes, Scrooge, I laid an egg.” She said after rolling her eyes, “She has a tendency of doing this, so we need to find her before she unleashes one of your sealed curses or breaks her neck!”

“Aye.”

He could think of nothing else, or say anything else except for the name Goldie had christened her with, _Opal Goldie!_

“Ae think we need ta’ talk ‘boot her name, Goldie.”

“Why?” She tore down one of the shelves, pushing one of the older desks to the side, “Opal Goldie is a pretty name, and I always wanted a junior.”

Scrooge moved the curtains to the side, checking every corner of every room, “Just sayin’ Ae think the wee bairn deserves a betta’ name.”

“A better name than Opal Goldie!?” She slammed a book onto the floor, “Opal Goldie is a perfectly fine name,” stepping to him, she jammed her finger into his chest, “and you will respect it.”

“But first we need ta’ find her,” Scrooge replied.

“Yes, we need to do that.” She thought quickly, mind racing at possibilities, and she stared at him, “Do you have any jewels lying around?”

“Wot?”

“She loves jewels, anything shiny.” Goldie opened cabinets, drawers, anything with a lock, searching for any precious, bejeweled items, “I took her to Russia, and the next thing I knew she had discovered The Imperial Coronation Egg,” Goldie stared at him, “she was licking it.”

As cruel as his spinning head was, he did not allow it to cloud his thoughts, “If she’s fond of jewels, then there’s one place she’d want ta’ be,” opening the door, he led the way down a multitude of corridors.

There was no guarantee the seven month old was where he thought she’d be. There were so many doors and rooms in the mansion. He didn’t know the exact number. Yet, Goldie was insistent on the child’s nature, At least she’s got a good eye for value, and they hurried to the floor underneath the garage, the basement.

“You leave it in here, Scroogey?”

“With the renovations, aye.” He went ahead, turning on the lights, “Ae plan ta’ send it ta’ the garage later.”

“Huh.” She pushed tarnished metal out of the way, “I still can’t believe she managed to sneak away again.”

“Seems like she inherited yer skills.” Scrooge chuckled, “Now, tell me, what’s she like, me wee bairn?”

“Oh, don’t sound cocky.” Goldie replied, “And don’t make it sound like a bad thing. She’s going to need these skills when she’s older, trust me.”

Scrooge nodded, “Ae canne deny that.”

The further they moved into the basement, the less noise they heard. Not that there was much noise in the first place. The longer they searched, other sounds became apparent to their ears, and they quickened their movements. It was the easily identified coos of an infant, sweet giggles, and a second voice that made their stomach drops in terror.

“I see I arrived on time, sir.” To the furthest corner of the basement was a slim pedestal where Scrooge’s second most prized possession was interred, “And Ms. O’Gilt, I presume you were looking for this.”

The glass protector was shattered on the floor into tiny bits, and the gold nugget it protected laid nearby where a pair of tiny, white hands clutched it with all their might.

“Opal!”

Goldie scooped her into her arms, ignoring her annoyed whines, “You little rascal. You scared me half to death,” holding her loose in her arms, she smirked at the butler, “Well, he’d make one fine babysitter.”

“You flatter me, Ms. O’Gilt, but I must warn you, I am not fond of children.”

Scrooge stood by, marveling at the miniature creature cradled precariously in Goldie’s arms. Her tiny fingers clawed up and down her upper arm, and she tugged on Goldie’s ponytail, bringing it to her mouth to suck on.

“Uh...Goldie,” Scrooge warned.

“What?” Her peripheral vision caught the hair in the mouth, and she groaned, rolling her eyes as she tugged Opal away from the aforementioned ponytail, “What have we discussed? My hair is not a chew toy.”

Opal babbled, kicking her feet and fists excitedly. She reached for Goldie’s face, and the hardness in her stare melted somewhat, “Oh, I can’t stay mad at you.”

“So…,”

“What?” Remembering he was there, she grinned, “Do you want to hold her?”

“Um...she won’t bite will she?” He opened his arms before Goldie could offer a mocking answer, and felt the warm, squishy gentleness that was a baby’s body.

Her bright, blue-green orbs studied his new face. A face she had undoubtedly had no recollection of, and she turned to her mother, who stared back with an encouraging grin and crossed arms.

“Look, she likes you already,” Goldie said.

“Ae can see that.” Like she did with her mother, her curiosity broke free, and she climbed on him, tugging on his red robes and reaching for his whiskers.

A sharp, unforgiving tug told Scrooge why putting her close to his face was a bad idea.

He winced, gently trying to prod the child away from his face, “Ack, please, dearie, let go of Poppa’s whiskers.”

“You’re going to have to rip her off them.” Goldie suggested, “Duckworth, we have a few things to discuss, do you mind taking Opal for a bit?”

Duckworth sent a dry stare at Scrooge, and when he nodded, his longtime butler rolled his eyes, gently extracting the child from his whiskers and carrying her upstairs. Opal’s coos wer heard in the distance until they faded entirely.

Leaving them alone. Just the two of them.

“So…”

“Why dinnae ye’ tell me ye laid an egg?” He wasn’t the one to toe around important matters. He slid down to the floor, the weight of today’s events suddenly crashing down on his shoulders.

She slid down beside him, shoulders sagging, “I’ve laid eggs before, and none of them were...you know,” she gestured tiredly, “and I could tell the difference.”

“How?”

“How?” She sent him a look, “The weight difference. It’s heavier than an empty egg, and it’s lighter than a dud.”

He took note of that, but asked nothing more on the subject.

“That doesn’t answer why ye’ dinnae tell me.” He searched her gaze for answers, and wasn’t surprise when nothing was seen, “Ae deserved ta’ know Goldie.”

Emerald eyes flickered in gold, swimming at him at a speed he was never successful at catching.

“I know. I wanted to.” She said, “I went into laying during a mission, searching for the Elizabeth Bathory’s blood ruby. A midwife made an incubator for the duration of our stay, and there wasn’t time.”

“No time ta’ tell me Ae’m a father?” He scoffed, “Ae deserved ta’ have known! Ae’d been there.”

Goldie winced.

It was true. Nothing would have stopped him from coming. He would have wanted to have been there, for her hatching, for the first moments in her life as her beak cracked through the gentle shell.

“You didn’t miss much,” she dismissed, “she was just a ball of yellow puff, and blind. No one warned me how ugly babies are when they’re born. I almost didn’t believe she was mine.”

“And then she screamed.”

“And then she screamed.” A far away look cast over her eyes, and she shook her head furiously, as if disgusted by the unnerving display, “I came here for a reason, Scroogey, more than just introducing you.”

Another boulder toppled to the bottom of his stomach. He propped his knee up, resting his elbow on it, and set a firm glance in her direction, “Ae’d hope we wouldnae come ta’ that.”

“I can’t a raise a baby, Scrooge.”

“Ye’d seem ta’ be doin’ fine for the past seven months.”

A dry chuckle fluttered free, “And I’d hope to continue it,” she shook her head in annoyance, “but it isn’t safe raising a baby around the world, not like I do.”

The last bit she admitted through gritted teeth.

“Ye can stay.” His offer exited cautiously, aware what line he was in danger of crossing, “Ye and Opal, can stay here, ye know ye can.”

“I know I can, but we know I won’t.” Not looking at him, she stared at the crowded wall, the lost treasures he had found with her assistance and without, “Scrooge, I am not a domestic.”

“Ye think Ae am!” Standing, he put his hands on his hips, glaring down at her with impunity, “Ae’m running a multi-trillion financial empire, and ye think Ae’ve got time to change diapers and spoon feed toddlers?”

“Oh Scroogey, we both know by tomorrow you’re going to present her to the board as if it isn’t a big deal.”

“Well, it is!”

“But you’re not going to treat it like that.” She explained roughly, punching the ground for emphasis, “And lets be realistic, of the two of us, you’re better suited for this than I am.”

Scrooge opened his mouth to protest and found that he couldn’t.

Because it was true, to a degree.

He had the money, the protection. He could afford anything and more for her, and this knowledge nestled between them like a warmly incubating egg.

He growled, scowled, stomped his feet. He crossed his arms and leaned back on the wall, contemplating, “Ye’ll be comin’ in and out, won’t ye?”

“I will visit as often as possible.”

“And how do Ae know she’s mine?” As a last ditch effort, he threw the accusation out, staring her down completely, waiting for the inevitable smack.

It never came.

Goldie sighed, strands of lemon kissed hair slipping through her tight ponytail, “Scroogey, you know better.”

And he did.

He knew despite the years and the betrayals, the constant tit for tat her attention had never strayed, not a single moment, and neither had his. He speculated, every now and then when his yearning for her reached unbearable proportions, and every doubt in his mind shriveled with reassurance. He knew her just as she knew him.

“Ae’m sorry.”

“No, no, not at all.” He returned to her side, letting his hand fall on top of hers, and their fingers entwined quietly, “I think she’ll do fine with Duckworth.”

“Heh.” He chuckled dryly, “He isn’t fond of children, ye’ know.”

“Neither am I.”

Her brow crinkled, “You can keep her safe, feed her, clothe her, you know the essentials,” she listed them one by one, making sure she didn’t miss anything pertinent, “and I’ll come for holidays, birthdays. I’ll be around.”

“Just for select days of the year.”

“And think of it like this, you’ll have your own personal traveling buddy,” she smirked. “Can you imagine what she’ll be like when she starts talking and walking?”

“Ae donnae if Ae wanna know,” Scrooge massages his temples, “she seems like more than handful, and we’ve jes met.”

“But it’ll be one hell of an adventure.” She smiled sadly, “Scrooge, you know me, and I know you. This is the thing you’ve wanted most.”

“What’s that?”

Her emerald storm caressed him as she rested her head on his shoulder, fingers still clasped around his, and she sighed a breath so quiet he barely made it out as it passed through her lips.

“A chance to revive the McDuck name,” she murmured.

His grip tightened, “Low blow, lass.”

“I know.” Her chin rested on his shoulder as she peered at him, “But it’s the truth.”

It was the truth that ever mattered.

“I’ll stay for the day, to make sure she’s settled in.”

“And what will ye’ be doin’ after that?"

Her dark eyebrow made a perfect arch when she looked back at him, a playful grin toying on her beak, “A little trouble in the pacific," her playful grin twisted into a smirk, "read about some lost treasure sunken below, and I intend to be the first."

"And if ye' not?"

"I'll be the last to grab it."

Scrooge sent her a warning glare, shifting Opal on his hip as her head bobbled in every possible direction, enamored with the new items and decorations, “Not until the renovations are done, ye’ here? Ae’ve gotta install a new security system for Opal.”

“And what are you going to tell your board?”

“Bah, they’ll come around in time.” They went through the kitchen where Duckworth set their breakfasts on the table. Handing Opal to him, she was propped in the high chair and administered a warm bowl of thick, sweetened porridge.

She grabbed the plastic spoon, banging on the surface as she squealed at delight with her newfound freedom.

“Duckworth, will ye’ please?” Opening his newspaper, he read through the morning reports as he stirred his coffee, “We donnae want a bowl of porridge smacking ta’ the floor.”

“Certainly sir.”

He stood like a statue, moving only to feed her. She scowled when he gently retrieved the bowl and spoon, but didn’t cry when the first spoon snuck into her mouth.

“I think you’re better with kids than you know, Duckworth.”

“Ms. O’Gilt, please.”

He said _mouth wide, young miss,_ and Opal obediently complied, humming as she suck the soft substance off the silver, plastic covered spoon.

‘It’s good she likes ye.” Scrooge observed, “But we’ll be makin’ a stop at the Money Bin. Never too young to learn the essentials of business, isn’t that right me wee bairn?”

He reached to pinch her cheeks, and as if sensing the approaching fingers, Opal smacked his hand without looking. She kept her gaze on the steady spoon, opening her mouth for another scoop.

“Ack.” Her snap was more of a feathered pat, “And a tempa’ to ‘boot,” he grinned, snapping his newspaper in approval.

“There you, go.” Goldie bit into a blueberry crepe, the sweetest and softest she had ever eaten, “There’s nothing to worry about. She’ll be fine with you.”

Scrooge sent her a mindful stare, “Don’t forget, birthdays and holidays.”

“Birthdays and holidays,” she tore through her crepe, “will we need legal paperwork for this, Scrooge?”

“As much as ye’ love ta’ double cross me, kidnapping is not yer forte, dearie.”

She nodded, “Touche.” A sly grin caressed her beak, as if the most delicious idea popped into her head, “You know Scroogey, Opal seems to be a bit occupied right now, and when does your meeting start?”

Scrooge stared back at her, eyelids lowered, and set his coffee mug to the side, “It starts when Ae tell it ta’.”

They grinned at each other.

They stood to return upstairs.

“Duckworth, please call the Money Bin to inform the board Ae’ll be arriving this afternoon.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Having eaten the last spoonful of porridge, Opal kicked her legs happily in the chair, smiling brightly at the recently added face in her life.

“It appears you are satisfied, young miss.”

Then she stilled. Her face scrunched tightly.

Duckworth narrowed his eyes, hearing the light strain bobbling in her throat, and the sudden _plop_ and _smush_ along with an unsavory odor gave him notice towards her diaper.

His drawl sigh was barely audible.

“Very well miss,” he raised the dirty child out of her seat, “Mr. McDuck will have to modify one of the rooms into a proper nursery.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am getting used to writing this Goldie. She is a lot of fun, and it's better to imagine her interactions with the still alive Duckworth.


End file.
